


Compulsion

by LollyDoodle



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Consensual Sex, F/M, Prostitution, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 10:40:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20445779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LollyDoodle/pseuds/LollyDoodle





	Compulsion

This is what he was reduced to.

He sighed as he stared up at the blinking neon sign that read **“ ANCING IRLS LIVE LIVE LIVE”** At least this place was only missing a couple of letters. Some of the joints he had dared to venture into didn’t even have signs. A sure bet that this was a classy establishment. As he looked around, he caught a glimpse of someone watching him through an upper window across the way. A flash of raven hair before the curtains hastily fell. He let her image invade his mind. Dark hair, sparkling green eyes, lips like...he snorted as he stuffed his fists into his coat pockets. He needed to forget her. She was long lost to him - deservedly so. Checking to make sure no one else was watching him, but knowing that no one cared anymore - a long ago ritual that was hard to shake - he pushed open the dusty, grubby door and stepped inside.

He found a semi-clean table in the corner and slumped down in the broken seat, already disappointed that he was allowing himself to do this again. That he could stoop so low. That he couldn’t stop this almost nightly compulsion to be a part of the seedy, seamy side of life.

He ordered a beer as he watched the nude woman on stage writhe unenthusiastically to the beat of the song that seemed to drone on and on. She grinned vivaciously but her dead eyes were searching for her next easy lay and a chance at some extra money in this audience of strangers. He didn’t want to think of what she might need or want that money for. 

He took a sip of his stale beer, swearing loudly when someone jostled his arm, spilling the amber liquid over the table, dripping down onto his jeans.

“Hey man, looking for some action tonight?”

He studied the jumpy, greasy-haired man that sat down across from him. He knew what the man meant. If he wanted an anonymous fuck, this guy could hook him up. Whatever his desires, this guy could find someone for him. Normally, he would go for it. Any chance to forget his troubled life and feel something, even if it was a forced orgasm from a faceless fuck. He shook his head. “Not tonight. I’ll just watch and help myself,” he raised his right hand with a smile.

“Nah man. You don’t want to fuck your own hand. These girls ain’t even worth getting hard for. I can get you a real handjob. It could lead to much more.” 

“Really, I’m good.”

“Misty will look after you good. Real good.”

“Miss T?” he lifted his eyebrow in curiosity.

“Nah man. MISTY. Got the hands of a goddess.”

He didn’t know why he let her spring into his mind again. The thought of her being in a place like this. She would never. She was too high class for this place, she’s too high class in general. But just the thought of her and the vision that was now at the forefront of his mind made him groan and stir in his seat.

“Misty, huh?”

“Yeah, man.”

“Hands like a goddess?”

“The softest, most gentle hands in the world. She will make you come again and again.”

Well, who could resist that offer? He slapped down a few dollars for the horrible brew and stood up. “Where to?”

“Follow me.” The greasy man stood as well and gestured for him.

They went out the door and down the garbage-strewn alley. He followed as the man led him up a fire escape and let him into a dank, narrow hallway. He was beginning to rethink his decision to follow when they stopped suddenly and the guy stuck his key in the door in front of them.

“In here.”

As per his ritual, he glanced around before entering, knowing full well that no one he knew would be caught dead anywhere near here.

The room was surprisingly pleasant. The odors of the hallway did not intrude here, held at bay by a battalion of flickering fragrant candles. The sparse furniture was sturdy and clean looking, decorated by colorful throw pillows and blankets. Thick red velvet curtains blocking out the ugly neighborhood below.

“Misty is a classy lady. She likes the nice stuff,” the greasy man smiled and nodded. 

“Oh yeah, this is a nice joint,” he nodded as he took in the small apartment. Of course, it reminded him of her. Everything did. “Where is she?”

“Oh man, you can’t see her.”

He shook his head. “I’m not sticking my dick in a hole for some dude to suck,” he cursed as he backed toward the door. “I should have known better.”

“Nah man, no hole. No dude. Misty, she’s private. She likes the blindfold.”

“Blindfold?” 

“For you. Heightens the sensation, she says.” 

“But...I’ll see her when she blindfolds me?”

“Nah man. I do.”

He shook his head once more. “Nope. I’m out of here.”

“Listen, man,” the guy grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “You leave, you miss out on the best you ever had.”

He snorted. No, he **had** the best he would ever have and he threw it all away. No one could top that.

** **** **

“Trust me, man. Trust me.”

So he allowed himself to be blindfolded and led by the hand to another heavily scented room. Lavender, he thought. Mixed with something else, vanilla maybe. He was pushed down on a soft mattress and told to wait. 

“She’ll be here for you. She’s worth the wait, man.”

Another snort. Yup, heard that before too. Fate hated him and waiting got him absolutely nothing in return but depression and heartache.

The door slipped shut softly and he sat in darkness, straining to hear sounds of life.

He felt her before he heard her. Her hands ghosted over his shoulders and down his midsection making him shudder. They rested warmly on his knees and then they were in his hair, teasing it into sweaty spikes.

“You want me?” 

That voice. It couldn’t be.

“Yes,” he croaked. “I need you.”

“You need to do as I say, then.”

He nodded, that voice driving mad, making him lust for whoever was behind it. But it couldn’t be. He was just hearing what he wanted to hear.

“Lean back.”

He let himself sway back, putting his hands behind him and trusting his core strength to hold him up. He jerked as her hand drifted over his crotch, gently cupping him through his jeans. One hand stayed in place, holding him with a slight touch of pressure while the other pulled his zipper down with an insufferable slowness. He writhed in place, anxious for her to touch him, to make him feel alive.

She pulled his jeans off at an equally slow pace, drawing them down one leg at a time. He thought it would take forever to remove them. Forever to get to his boxers. 

Forever to get to what he needed. With a jolt, he realized her hand was pulling at the waistband of his undergarments and she was cooing in delight at what she revealed as she stripped them from his body. He felt his cock spring free, fully erect and ready for her. She gripped him with surprising strength and suddenness, causing his blinded eyes to roll back into his head. Then she began to work, her fingers gliding over him like silk, then holding and banding him like steel, the shocking fluctuations of her movements causing him to thrust with abandon into her hands. She stopped. He gasped at the sensation of her hands leaving him, he needed them, he wanted them. More, more, more. She gently pushed his hips down with flat palms.

“Down,” she murmured. “All the way down.”

Obediently, he lay back on the mattress.

“You want this, you do it my way.” Her mouth was near his ear, the tip of her tongue wickedly traced the outline of it. The scent of her perfume was making him dizzy, this was all too much. 

“What is your way?” he stammered.

“Slow and steady.”

He lay there for what seemed like forever, his cock achingly hard and begging for her touch. He itched to touch himself, the offer some relief, but he didn’t want her to punish him for it. He needed her to finish him.

“You have a strong will,” she purred. This time on his other side. Her fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, baring his stomach. “Most men have touched themselves by this point. So disappointing,” she tutted. “You’re a strong one.” Her tongue dipped into his belly button and he shuddered with desire. 

“I want you,” he choked out. “I will wait forever.”

“Ah!” she chuckled throatily. “I won’t make you wait that long.”

He felt his shirt push all the way up to his chin, her tongue and teeth grazing over his nipples, her fingers like velvet on his chest. Her fingernails raking over him bringing shudders of the most pleasurable pain. Suddenly, she gripped him again, making him shoot straight up before she pushed him down again. Her hands began their ministrations in earnest - hard, soft, smooth, rough - and then she left him again. His hips jerked involuntarily, praying for her touch.

“Do you want my mouth?”

She was on him, her slight weight on him, her naked thigh grazing his painful, swollen member, and her peppermint-scented breath in his face. Her tongue traced his lips and poked into his open mouth. His brain couldn’t function with her this close, the smooth silk of her gown, warm from her skin, pressing against him, with him this close to the breaking point. The thought of her mouth on him, warm and fluid...his hips bucked in response.

“Yes...god...yes...I’m so close,” he knew he was begging but he didn’t care at this point. He needed relief and that mouth and tongue were sure to provide it.

She slipped off of him, those fingers dancing over his chest as she did. Then he felt her mouth take the tip of him in, her breath hot. She sucked gently then released, then drew more of him in, repeating the pattern until he was fully engulfed in her hot mouth. She swallowed, the suction making him quiver before she let her tongue go to work. He could only lay there, panting out incoherent curse words as she bobbed up and down his length, working him into a frenzy. Her tongue would stiffen and trace his veins before she sucked him in again, her fingers cupping him like a velvet vice. He cried out as her mouth left him, the cool air shocking his system.

“You close?” 

“I’m ready.”

“You’re ready when I say you're ready.”

Taking him fully in her mouth once more, he couldn't stop his hips from thrusting up to her, from willing her to move and let him come. She let him slip out of her mouth again, but only long enough to pull his hands from behind his back and place them on her shoulders.

“Okay...come for me.”

She took him in again, his breath hissing out at the sensation. He gently held her head as he sat up and let his hips thrust into her. He imagined he could see her face, see her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him in, see her tongue swirl around him, see her green eyes as she stared up at him. He imagined that this woman doing these things to him - making him feel alive again - was her. His once more. The strength of his orgasm took him by surprise. He spasmed as he came into her beautiful mouth, thrusting into her, trying to hold her close but not hurt her as his orgasm rocked him. He finally relaxed, releasing her and collapsing onto the mattress.

“Good boy.” she lay beside him, fingers tracing designs on his arms and heaving chest. 

“Can I see you?”

“You know you can’t.”

“I want more.”

“More?”

“I want you.”

His fingers gently followed her lines, finding her folds under her dressing gown and plunging into her wetness. She gasped as he gently drew them in and out, his movements becoming faster as her body reacted to them. He withdrew his hand to leave her gasping and wanting as he tossed his shirt and jacket aside. 

“I want you,” he repeated, his cock already hardening impossibly quickly once more. He lay beside her, letting his hands follow the planes of her body as she stretched luxuriously on the bed next to him. Her breathing was slow and heavy. His fingers pushed aside the silky material of her gown, tracing over the curves of her abdomen, catching on the tiny piercing, trailed up to her breasts and swirled over her taut nipples. He could tell she wanted this, must have wanted this right from the start considering her current state of undress, he just had to wait for the words. His hands continued stroking, probing, caressing - everywhere he could reach. Her back arched up as she uttered small gasping pleas for him to touch her more, touch her deeper, just…

“I want you too…please…" She paused, moving away from him and then her hands were on him again, gently rolling a condom down his now fully erect cock. “Now, please.”

He hovered over her for an instant, balancing on one elbow as he let his fingers drift over her face, to try and get a feel of what the face that belonged to this woman writhing beneath him looked like. He could only hope she was half as beautiful as...no...he had to stop letting her invade his brain. Isn’t that why he spent all his time in these dirty clubs and visiting prostitutes? To forget her?

He felt one arm snake around his waist as the other pushed between them and lined him up at her core. “Please.”

Never a man to deny a woman who said please, especially in that low, sultry voice, he slowly pushed into her, inch by warm, wet and satisfying inch. He groaned in pleasure once he was fully sheathed in her, a feeling he wanted to enjoy for as long as she would let him. She lifted her legs and crossed them behind his back, hips arching to encourage him on. Slowly he started to move, the heated friction between their bodies causing him to moan with a wicked combination of pure lust and desire. 

She breathed shallowly as she raised herself up on her elbows, letting her head fall back so he could ravage her neck and breasts as he continued to thrust into her. Slow and steady, that was her way even if her way was killing him. Her hips began to buck uncontrollably and he held her down gently with one flat palm as he slid out of her.

“No.” she whimpered as her fingers stole down to stroke her folds.

The distress in her voice gave him pause, he didn’t want to disappoint her. No. Not her. This personification of her. It would never be her again. Deftly, he lifted her, flipping her in midair and placing her back on the bed.

“On your knees, all fours,” he demanded.

She complied almost immediately, her hands desperately reaching for him to guide him back in.

He let the flat of his hand sweep up her spine as he sank back into her, stroking her soft skin gently as his other hand gripped her waist and held her to him as he rocked into her faster and harder. Her breath was coming in quick gasps now, she was muttering “fuck, fuck, fuck” in that genteel voice as her hips bucked back to meet him with every thrust. He let out a strangled cry when she dropped down to her elbows and the new angle she presented him almost ended him. 

They now fought a determined dance, each wanting to bring the other to the height of pleasure. He plunged into her at a fierce rate, his lips and tongue scorching her neck as she matched him thrust for thrust, her hand wildly moving between their joined bodies driving them both on.

He pulled out of her again, flipping her over once more, diving in, not needing any direction now. She flung her legs over his shoulders and grasped his ass, pulling him as close as she could. He pumped into her wildly, grunting lowly as he felt his release approaching. She let out a moan, her muscles stiffening and clenching around him as her orgasm hit. He held out as long as he could, pumping through his release as she kissed and caressed him through the mind-shattering orgasm.

He collapsed onto the bed, boneless and breathless, hoping he might get another chance as soon as they recovered. Misty had been all he had been told and more. He lay in a daze as her lips dusted over his body and then suddenly, her warmth was gone. He heard the door open and shut with a soft click. The loss of her made his breath catch, an embarrassing hitching sob.

“You can take the blindfold off now.”

The guy from the club. Had he watched them? Been in the room this whole time? He jumped up, flinging the blindfold off and searching for something to cover his nakedness.

“Where is she?”

“I told you, Misty is private.”

“I need to see her again.”

“Dude. You never saw her.”

He muttered to himself as he dressed. How could an anonymous fuck make him feel so much? He wanted more, he needed more.

“When can we do this again?” 

The jumpy, greasy guy stood by the door, bouncing on his toes and glancing at his watch.  
“I dunno man, Misty tells me when she wants some, I just have to go find someone for her. She has a type.”

He followed the man out of the room, back out into the dank hallway and back to the club. 

“What's her type?”

“She likes guys like you, dark hair, good looking, sporty. You do sports?”

“I did.” Another image of her, pink and gauzy, floated through his memory.

“You're her type man.”

“How many men, how often?” he persisted.

“Oh, I don't know man. I can't tell you that. “

His jaw clenched tightly as he pressed a roll of bills into the guys waiting sweaty palm. “I want to see her again. I need to see her again. You tell her that.”

The guy shrugged. “It’s up to Misty. If she wants you again. Maybe, maybe not.”

“I’ll pay more. I’ll pay whatever she wants to be with her again. Exclusively.”

“Nah man. Misty doesn’t do exclusive. Misty does what she likes.”

He clenched his jaw again, stupidly jealous at the thought of her with another man. “You’ll tell her?”

“Yeah man, but Misty wants what she wants. If you were good, maybe she’ll want you again.”

As he exited the club, he glanced up and saw a slim hand holding those red velvet curtains slightly open. As he watched, the hand slipped away, the curtains falling closed once more. He walked back home in the driving rain, trying desperately to get her out of his head. To forget how she made him feel, to forget the feeling of her hands on him, to forget the feeling of being immersed in her and feeling like he had found his home. He rounded the corner and saw a car in the driveway. He cursed, unlocking the door and shut it quietly behind him. The house was dark, she didn’t wait up for him anymore. Laying his damp jacket over the banister, he trudged up the stairs, peeling his wet clothes off as he did. Dropping the garments in the hamper, he rubbed his hair with a towel, considered a shower - washing the scent of her off him, scrubbing the stench of the club away - before he shrugged and entered the bedroom. He didn’t give a shit anymore about what she thought. He didn’t give a shit about much anymore, to be honest.

She was in bed, swaddled in the blankets and comforters, even though it wasn’t very cold yet. He lay down gently, not wanting to disturb her sleep and have to answer the endless questions of where he had been, what he had done and why did he smell like a goddamn whorehouse. His eyes drifted shut and all he could see was her, those eyes, that face.

“You want me.” Those same words, but not the same voice, never the same voice. Not anymore.

He awoke with a jolt, her hand on his cock, her voice delighted that he was naked and hard, seemingly waiting for her.

“Hey, babe.” He kissed his wife softly as she climbed on top of him, letting herself sink down his length with a purr of desire.

He lay there as she fucked him, this time an unenthusiastic participant, letting her do as she wished to his body. Lord knew they hadn’t been together like this for months now. This would make her happy, thinking that he still had some feelings for her. 

He didn’t love her.  
He had never loved her. 

His true love he could never have. He had ruined it long ago and now... this is what he was reduced to.


End file.
